Evening the Odds
by phantomworks
Summary: As a slave, Heba was chosen to watch over the Pharaoh's newborn son to insure that the new heir lives to his reign. But when the slave himself is feeling unexplainable wims to harm his own charge, he pleads the king to kill before he kills the prince.


Phantomworks: I'm going to write something that _no one has ever thought of before!_

**Alice: note the sarcasm.**

Phantomworks; I don't own Yugioh or its characters, only this fanfic.

Chapter 1

"Hear all, the royal news! An heir has been born on this night!" a cry went out among the crowd. One of joy and happiness for the new prince of Egypt and for the pharaoh and his queen who had finally succeeded with an heir after years of trying.

Truly, this was a joyous day.

"Blast that old fool! How dare he do this to me? And that prince! How dare he interfere with my rise to power! I shall have my revenge! It shall come from the least expected at the time when the prince is most vulnerable! For what they have done, I shall make both suffer dearly for this!" a dark figure vowed as he glared up at the night-darkened palace. "Mark my words, for they will spell your end!"

"Sire! The slave you requested!" a servant girl bowed low; a move copied by the stall, strong man behind her.

"Thank you, Lira, you may rise and leave." The pharaoh motioned for her to leave. He over looked the slave. It astounded him by how much this slave looked like his son. Bright sun-bleached bangs framed his face and dark red-tinted black hair sprang up behind. Tan skin glowed with a healthy sheen. Many scars from hard work and years of labor littered his caramel colored skin, mostly faded from the years. Taunt muscles flexed as the Pharaoh commanded him to rise.

"You called for me, my king?" the deep voice answered. The voice belonged to the strongest and tallest of his slaves, though he wouldn't hurt even a fly without provocation. Which is why the pharaoh was now assigning him a very special task.

"Yes, Heba. Come here." The king said, standing beside his bed where his queen was resting with his now sleeping first born. "Isn't he wonderful?"

"Yes, my king, a true gift." The slave answered with a gentle smile.

"And strong too. I have much hope for his future." The pharaoh continued. He broke his gaze away from the small bundle to gaze at his favored slave, "Which is why I have called you here."

"Sire?"

"You will guard him with your life. He will one day be pharaoh and rule over all of Upper and Lower Egypt. Many will try to kill him before that day arrives. It is your sole duty to protect him no matter what." His stare hardened in seriousness, "Is that clear?"

The slave lowered his head obediently, "Yes, my Pharaoh."

"Good." The pharaoh bent over to pick up his child, gingerly lifting the bundle before offering the babe to the slave, Heba. Startled, Heba started to reach out with shaking hands before stopping himself. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Heba reached out again, this time much steadier, to take the sleeping child into his arms.

Once settled, the bundle shifted a bit, the silk blanket falling away from a very familiar face. Gasping, the slave watched as the baby opened crimson eyes, identical to his father's that complemented his own tri-colored hair. Blonde bangs framed the child's face as well as shooting up through black locks. The child gurgled happily, smiling and pulling on one of the slave's own bangs. The slave laughed at its cute antics. Watching silently, the Pharaoh smiled, knowing he had made the best choice for his son.

~Five years later~

"My prince! Please! You need to go to lessons!" the slave, Heba, panted as he ran through the palace, searching for his young charge. It was getting harder and harder to find the prince in his little game of hide and seek. To think, in less than a year, the young heir would be learning invisibility spells from Master Mahaado!

What would he do with the prince then?

"My prince, please! Your father will have my head if I don't find you!" Heba whined, coming to a halt and doubling over because of his harsh panting.

"You're no fun anymore, Heba!" the prince sprang up from a jar on Heba's immediate right, scaring the tar out of the slave. "Ha-ha! Okay, I take that back! You're fun to mess with!"

"Prince Atem, please! You must go back to lessons! Master Mahaado is anxious about you!" the slave pleaded.

"Y'know, Heba, for such a big guy, you're not so tough." Another, more feminine, voice added.

"Mana! You shouldn't be distracting the prince with these games! Both of you, get out of there!" the slave stomped his foot childishly. Though they didn't let it show, the two kids were still a bit scared of the big slave. It was so much better to ignore such facts.

"Alright, alright. We're getting out. Hold your horses." Atem pouted as he climbed out. Once his feet touched the ground, he turned to help Mana out, only to find her halfway down the large jar. "Here, I'll help."

"Oh, thank-!" suddenly, the jar wobbled as she let go with a shriek. Knocking Atem down, both fell to the floor in a heap as the jar tilted more precariously. Two sets of eyes widened as the jar continued to topple over, right onto the two kids. The same two pairs of eyes squeezed shut and accepted their fate.

A large crash echoed off the palace walls.

"Wha-?" Atem timidly opened his eyes, not feeling the piercing pain that should've filled his small body. They snapped open when they were met with bloodied tan skin. "H-Heba?"

"My prince. Are you alright?" the slave sat back on his heels, not turning his injured back to the prince. He didn't need the prince worrying about a simple slave.

"Don't worry about me! What about you? You're hurt!" Atem scrambled to his feet.

"No, no. I'm fine. Prince, you must get your lessons." The tough slave said, helping Mana to her feet, "Come, Mana. I'm sure there's something in the kitchens to entertain you."

"No, Heba! I command you to stay here!" Atem demanded, harsh for a five-year-old. "Show me your wounds!"

"My prince, you really must-!"

"Heba." The prince's voice fell deep with authority one should not have so young. "Show me."

Dropping his gaze to the floor, Heba gently shifted himself off his knees and dusted himself off, "How about this. I'll escort you to your lessons, and then go to Isis for healing, okay?"

"But I want to-!" the prince was cut off when Mana gave him a stern look before whispering something in his ear. Reluctantly, the prince sighed and allowed the two to escort his to Mahaado's study. The walk was silent, for which Heba was grateful. Soon, they had reached their destination.

"Now go straight to Isis and let her heal you!" the prince commanded.

"You really needn't worry, Prince Atem. As a slave, my back is strong. It barely even hurt." Heba brushed him off.

"What about your hand?"

"My hand-?" the slave looked down and gasped softly as he realized that his clenched hand was injured. In fact, it bled profusely, the pain just how hitting him. Wrenching it open, a sharp piece of pottery dropped from his fingers and fell to the floor, shattering into even smaller, but less deadly pieces.

"Why was that in your hand? And why did you hurt yourself with it?" the prince questioned.

"I… I do not know…" Heba continued to share at the blood, almost entranced by the dark liquid.

"Heba… HEBA!" the prince's voice broke him out of his trance. "Are you okay?"

"I will be fine, my prince." He laughed, a little light headed, "I will go to Isis and be back before you are finished with lessons. Mana, there is to be a feast tomorrow and all servants are to meet in the kitchen before Ra rises tomorrow."

"Aw!" she whined. Once again, he laughed before giving each a hug (careful to not get his blood on them) and waited until they disappeared beyond Mahaado's door before turning and continuing on his way with questions filling his head. Why _had_ he picked up the pottery shard? Why was his grip so tight that it actually cut him? And why, in the back of his mind, were there thoughts of plunging it deep into the young prince's gut?

Phantomworks; dun-dun-da!

**Alice: what? Seriously? A cliff hanger?**

Phantomworks; don't worry. Atem survives.

**Alice:… what about Heba?**

Phantomworks:…. Please review! And don't forget to vote!

**Alice: you didn't answer my question!**


End file.
